


Love is Art is War is Love - Oliver Queen x Reader

by strawberryoneshots (nostalgicstrawberry)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Artist!Reader, F/M, Green Arrow - Freeform, Green Arrow x Reader - Freeform, Oliver Queen - Freeform, Oliver Queen X Reader - Freeform, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sass. Lots of Sass., Smut, This was a request., Warning: I've never seen Arrow. Ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgicstrawberry/pseuds/strawberryoneshots
Summary: @kellybutt requested: “Ok here goes nothing! I would like to request a story with female reader x Oliver Queen/Green Arrow (CW version) the mood to be angst at first (like there is mad tension between them at first) then it gets kinda fluffy (she brakes through his tough shell) then some romantic smut! The reader is an artist (paint and sculpt) and is hired to do either a painting or a bust of Oliver (him being mayor) and they clash (pride and prejudice kinda ways) she finds she cant stop thinking about him though. While she is in her studio in the Glades, the Arrow takes refuge and sees her work, and maybe that’s where it starts for him. She talks to him about the former rich boy, and gives lots of sass that points in the direction that she kinda likes him. He then wants to try to get to know her more, but is guarded. Kinda not sure how to get to the romantic smut. I will say, take whatever crearive libraries you neex to polish up my babble. (Sorry its so long!)”





	Love is Art is War is Love - Oliver Queen x Reader

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, folks! It’s your favorite trainwreck, SJ! This was a request!
> 
> Warning for smut, language, scars, and the fact that I’ve actually never seen Arrow and decided to just research Oliver and do my best because I hate the idea of turning someone’s request down! Also, spot the Wreck-It-Ralph reference!  
> Like this? Check out my preferred request format on Tumblr or Wattpad!
> 
> Y/N - Your Name
> 
> L/N - Your Last Name

Y/N L/N, the star artist of Starling City, had been commissioned to do a bust of the city’s mayor, Oliver Queen, to be displayed in the lobby of town hall.

Currently, the larger-than-life man was sitting on a stool in your studio, looking rather tense. 

“So, uh, what’s it like being mayor of such a big city?” you ask, trying to make conversation. 

“I thought you were an artist, not a journalist,” he comments with a smirk.

Queen was known to be a charmer, but you were not in the mood. People with power tend to make you nervous, leading you to automatically have your defenses up. 

“And as an artist I have the right to reject commissions, Mr. Charming,” you remind him, struggling to lift the large marble block you were going to use to make the bust. 

Eventually, it slams on the table, and you get your tools, chipping away at the block, starting at the shoulders. 

“So, that’s how it’s going to be,” he replies, keeping his smirk. “How long do you think this will take?” he asks, noticing how tedious the creation of a bust actually was. “I have a meeting at 6.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you reply in exasperation. Rich people. Time may be money, but only one is flexible. And it’s not the former. 

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p.’ You facepalm.

“I guess we could split this into a two-day thing. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to, considering I have other commissions I need to finish,” you grumble. 

“No need for snark. What about a smile, hmm?” He asks, continuing his charming act, though you could tell it was fake.

“No, thanks. We can’t all smile and get our way, y’know,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “You can drop the act, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, thank god,” he groans, the smirk immediately dropping. You hate to admit it, but that peaks your interest a little bit.

“Y’know what? Why don’t we split it into two days?” you offer, wanting to spread out your time with the mysterious mayor of your city and maybe break his shell a little more than the crack you’d managed.

“Sounds great,” he replies. 

“Alrighty. We’ll continue this session until five-thirty, and then tomorrow we’ll start at the same time we did today,” you tell him, and he nods, surprised at your ability to take control of a situation so quickly. 

You notice that the most powerful man in the city is even more handsome in person as you continue to work, and you feel your cheeks flush. No, Y/N, don’t be ridiculous! 

Time chips away like the pieces of marble that clatter to the floor. You trade quips, but have an all-around.. Interesting.. conversation. Eventually, Oliver lets you know that it’s five-thirty. 

“Alright. Well, see you tomorrow?” you ask. He hums in agreement, actually taking the time to observe the paintings and sculptures that surrounded him as he looked around this time. 

“You’re quite talented, Y/N. It’s been a pleasure. Until next time?”

“Until next time, Charming.” 

He leaves, and though a part of you hates to see it, another part just loves to watch him go.

-

“So, L/N, you asked me a lot about myself yesterday.. I think it’s about time I ask some questions about you. One: Why haven’t you invested in more comfy stools? My ass hurts.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” you ask.

“Cheeky,” he comments. “Maybe some other time.. Two: what made you want to become an artist? I mean, it’s not exactly an easy career to make money off of.”

“Well, I don’t do it to make money, that’s just a bonus. I do it because I love it. I grew up in Starling City, and I saw this gray city. Gray buildings, gray people, gray.. Everything. I wanted to make it a little better, add some color. Kinda like you and becoming mayor, I assume.”

Or me becoming the Green Arrow, he thinks, but dares not say. “Yeah,” he instead replies. “Kinda.”

The two of you continue to converse, him asking more and more questions.

“Why are you so interested in me?” you ask. “I mean, you’re the mayor, you must lead a pretty interesting life on your own. Why all the inquiries?”

“Well, I’m leading up to a different question, but I’d like to get to know more than your pretty face before I ask it.”

“Cheeky,” you echo his earlier observation as you continue to create the shape of his face, such as his cheekbones and the depth of his brow. 

“It appears we both are,” he agrees, and you begin chiseling his chiseled jawline into the marble, sanding it down as you go. 

“What’s your favorite color?” he asks.

“Green,” you reply.

“Me too.”

Next is his nose, which you shape with careful detail. 

“What’s your favorite food?”

“I’m a sucker for Italian. Pizza, spaghetti, anything.”

After that, it’s his beautiful eyes, which you meet in deep observance. He actually looks a little bit uncomfortable with how intently you’re looking at him. 

“Movies or TV shows?”

“TV shows.”

Then, it’s his lips. You don’t even notice that he has moved closer, looking at you intently as well. 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

“Of course.” You look up suddenly, blushing nervously despite him being the one to make the first move. 

“Alright.. Well, give me some hair and we’ll discuss the details, hm?”

You nod, still a bit surprised.

Because of your honesty, Oliver feels he can be honest with you. That makes you all the more interesting to him. He’s never felt like he could trust anyone.. But with you, he feels like he can try. 

You get started on his hair, both what’s on his head and what’s on his face. 

Eventually, you complete it, consequently finishing the bust. 

“It was a pleasure,” he tells you. “So, Moretti’s at eight? I’ll meet you there.”

“Moretti’s? Don’t you typically need a reservation for that?”

“I’m Oliver Queen, remember?” he asks, and for the first time, you do. He he gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek before leaving, and you panic.

Moretti’s?! That was one of the most upscale restaurants in town! You didn’t even look at the place, and you were a successful artist with money of your own!

You rush up the stairs in the back corner of your studio, up to your apartment, and immediately open up your closet, digging for something, anything… And then you see it. The Dress. 

The Dress was a simple green cocktail dress that was originally supposed to be worn to the wedding of a friend of yours, but the wedding had been cancelled due to the invasion of weird spider-like creatures that ended up killing the groom. 

The Dress was quite beautiful, despite its simplicity. So, you’d been saving it for a special occasion, like, an urgent special occasion. And if this wasn’t it, then you weren’t sure what was. You lay the dress out on your bed and pick a pair of simple black heels (or flats, if you’re not about that life) to wear with it. 

You first take a shower, shaving, well, everywhere (or not, if you’re not about that life.)

Afterwards, you blow-dry and style your hair (or moisturize your hairless scalp, I don’t know you.)

Then, you put on The Dress, doing a twirl in the mirror. You put on your earlier, chosen shoes, and then do your makeup. (Or not, as, once more I say, I don’t effing know you.)

By the time you’re finished doing all of that, it’s 7:30. You decide to get a head-start, as early is on-time and on-time is late. 

Once you get there, it’s 7:55. You meet Oliver, and notice he is wearing a different suit than the one he was wearing in your studio, and that he’s wearing this one with a green tie. 

You remember him asking your favorite color, and you had to admit, it was actually really impressive how much he paid attention to detail.

“Queen, your table is ready,” a hostess approaches the two of you, and you follow him, looking a bit surprised. 

“What would you like to drink?” she asks. He orders a soda, trying to keep it relatively tame. He had the feeling you weren’t the type to open up to someone who was drunk.. Or to   
do other things with someone who had been drinking.. 

You order a raspberry lemonade. 

“Are you sure you aren’t the one trying to charm me?” Oliver teases.

“What? Raspberry lemonade is good,” you defend yourself, but you’re smiling. 

“You look wonderful,” he tells you, and you blush. 

“Thank you,” you reply. “You too…I like the tie.”

That makes him smile, a real smile. He’d hoped you would like the tie. 

“Wow, I feel like you already kinda know everything about me. What about you?” you ask him. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Hmm… What’s your favorite… fruit?” you ask.

“That’s definitely… A creative question. Probably apples. Preferably green.”

“Green seems to be a reoccurring theme with you, huh?” you observe. 

“You could say that,” he replies, leading you to believe there’s more to that story. You don’t pry, though. 

All in all, the two of you have an amazing night, chatting about everything and nothing over a delicious dinner. Eventually it’s late, and he’s walking you home. You two make it to the studio, and after a lovely, though tame, kiss, he begins to leave.

“Oliver… Would you like to come inside?” you offer. He nods excitedly, causing you to smile. The two of you run inside and up the stairs, giggling like children. 

Though, the next thing you do isn’t very childlike, as he takes you roughly by your shoulders and presses his lips to yours forcefully. It’s intoxicating, just one kiss has you senseless. 

Suddenly you’re being slammed into a wall, but, like, in a good way. 

“Hell, the second I saw you I knew this was where we were gonna be,” He pants, kissing your neck.

“Good or bad?” you reply just as breathlessly.

“Good, very good. I think we might have been made for each other,” he says, unzipping your dress. 

“That’s a pretty loaded state- Ah!” your retort is cut off by him biting your neck in the process of giving you a hickey. “Why don’t we take this to a- Mm! A bed?”

“Your most inspired idea yet, my dear,” he responds, and you lead him to your room, where he practically throws you down on your bed, showering you with kisses. 

“So responsive,” he observes. 

“You really are something else, y’know that?”

“And so bold… You really are quite unique, Y/N.”

“I’ll exercise my boldness and tell you you’re wearing too many clothes.”

He removes his jacket and belt. 

“Cheeky.”

“Aren’t we both?” Oliver replies, and the two of you take off your shoes, and he takes off his socks. Your dress is only covering your body because of gravity.

Once Oliver pulls it over your head, you’re left only in your underwear. You begin to unbutton his shirt and notice that various scars cover his body. You instinctively reach out to feel the texture of him, and though he flinches for a moment, he allows it, tossing his shirt away. 

“Beautiful,” you comment.

“I call it scary,” he replies with a self-depreciating scoff. 

“No.. It’s unique. Like mixed media,” you correct him. 

“Unique, hmm? Another reoccurring theme with us.”

“Will there be an us tomorrow?”you ask. 

“For the first time in.. forever.. I can honestly say yes to that question.” The two of you kiss again, and you unbutton his pants, palming his hardness. He groans into your mouth,   
teasing you through your panties as well. 

“Ah, p-please,” you beg. 

“Please what, beauty?”

“Fuck me, please,” you say.

“Of course, my beautiful bold girl. As you wish,” Oliver takes off both yours and his underwear, slamming into you with a quick thrust that leaves you seeing stars, pushing your entire body back with his strength. He does everything right, touching you in all the right places as he thrusts into you at a swift pace.

You blurt out choked moans and gasps, repeating the word ‘please’, not even sure what you’re begging for except release. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna..”

“Me too,” you reply, feeling the heat burn painlessly through all your body before was has to be the most Earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever experienced. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says, the both of you still panting as he rolls off of you. 

“Agreed.”

“I know this is a bit ridiculous, and perhaps it’s my impulsiveness speaking, but I think I may love you,” Oliver tells you. 

“I think I may love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it!


End file.
